


Trivial Pursuit

by jewboykahl



Category: South Park
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Competitive Assholes, Fluff and Humor, Game Night, M/M, One Shot, cries in cryle, i love my angry babies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-12
Updated: 2021-01-12
Packaged: 2021-03-16 14:14:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28707990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jewboykahl/pseuds/jewboykahl
Summary: based on the dialogue prompt:“You’re smarter than you look.” “Is that a compliment for my intelligence or an insult for my looks?”-Kyle and Craig are bored during a snow storm and create a new, nerdy stripping game.
Relationships: Kyle Broflovski/Craig Tucker
Comments: 8
Kudos: 29
Collections: JBK and Lotus Cryle One Shots





	Trivial Pursuit

**Author's Note:**

> AHHHH im so excited to be starting this project with my sweet gorgeous friend lotus ehheeh thank you to lotus as always for inspiring me !!!! ilysm

“This is like… the worst game ever to play with just two people.”

Kyle whips his head around to pin his partner with a narrowed stare. “What are you talking about?!”

Craig is sat on the kitchen counter, taking sips of his water and watching the other man bustle between setting up a _Trivial Pursuit_ game and cooking dinner for the two of them. They were “enjoying” day two of being snowed into their shared home. Kyle had gone insane the moment he learned he could not attend work until the weather permitted; their bathroom was _spotless,_ and both of their hair had finally been trimmed after months of neglect. Craig on the other hand was rather enjoying the extra attention from the redhead man and sleeping passed six in the morning.

“I mean that this is minimum a four-person game. It will probably be really boring.”

“Right, and you _hate_ boring things,” Kyle remarks, splitting portions of parmesan chicken onto the ceramic plates he had set out earlier. “It’s trivia questions! It’ll be fun! Like watching _Jeopardy_ together, but maybe you’ll actually _care_.”

Craig snorts, “I’m sorry that you’re the only person in the world who thinks that watching _Jeopardy_ with another person is a competition.”

After replacing the saucepan onto the counter, Kyle strides up to Craig, fitting himself into the spot between his spread legs. Warm brown eyes finding his own and a snarky smile worked in unison to make his heart flutter as Kyle suggested, “Everything is a competition,“ Craig sighed happily into a chaste kiss on the lips, keeping his eyes shut when listening to the follow-up nag. “Now get off my counter.”

Watching the other man strut away, Craig smirks to himself and does as he is told. He slides off of the counter and takes a seat opposite Kyle, who is taking a long sip of wine. Craig scans his eyes along the delicious Italian meal, bowl of fresh garlic bread, and board game set up before them. “Thank you, baby.” Kyle hums in reply as Craig cuts off a piece of his chicken and watches him prick his finger to test his glucose levels. Chewing, he fiddles with one of the circular, pie-shaped game pieces. He swallows and asks, “How do you play this game?”

“You don’t remember? I thought you were the expert of how to play this game and with whom it should be played with.” Kyle challenges facetiously.

Craig perks his head toward the discarded game box on the other end of their dining table. “The box has a suggested number of players, buttpipe.”

“Whatever! It’ll be fun!” Kyle urges.

“Why don’t you just ask yourself the questions? My brain is no match for yours.”

Kyle scoffs, “Okay, Mr. _Astrophysicist_.”

“Okay back, Mr. _Neurosurgeon_.”

“We are both hot geniuses,” Kyle shrugs, laughs, “just play the damn trivia game with me! Knowledge of random facts isn’t indicative of intelligence, anyways.”

Craig nods, “True. Though, I think you’re just saying that because you know that I would win if I actually tried.”

He earns yet another disapproving glare from the redhead (one of millions at this point, he assumes), “What do you mean _if_?! Try! It won’t be any fun if you don’t try!”

“Correction,”—he gestures with his fork to punctuate his point—“It won’t be any fun.”

Kyle takes in a quick, irritated inhale. “Craig, please humor me, okay? I want to actually enjoy the unexpected break instead of just being extremely bored and feeling like I’ve wasted my time.”

Craig finds it increasingly difficult to turn down the big, brown eyes and pouty expression from his significant other. He sighs and accepts, “Fine, but I’m still going to let you win. Not even because I don’t want to try, you will just get extremely angry if you lose.”

“Come on, I’m not _that_ bad,” Kyle chuckles and hands Craig a deck of cards.

Craig cocks a dark eyebrow. “Do you call the big bruise on Kenny’s face from _Wii Tennis_ ‘not that bad’? _”_

Kyle groans, “That was an accident. They shouldn’t have stood so close to me.”

The dark-haired man lets out an amused laugh and enjoys a majority of his meal while Kyle explains the rules of the game. With his first move, he aims for the pink space. He grins at the fact that Kyle had assigned him the blue piece, his favorite color. Kyle lifts a card and reads him his entertainment themed question: “The 1963 Alfred Hitchcock film _The Birds_ is based off of a novelette by what English author?”

Craig squints to pull the information from the back of his brain where it had been lying dormant since his women’s film studies course in his second semester of his liberal arts bachelor’s degree. After a sip of wine he guesses, “Daphne du Maurier?”

Kyle cannot stifle his eyeroll before feigning for enthusiasm. “That’s right! Get a pink pie piece.”

“See, this is what I’m talking about,” Craig laughs, “You’re already all butthurt.”

“Fuck you. Go again,” He snaps, nodding to the dice.

“Try to stump me on this one so I don’t have to see your pouty face for the next round.” Craig jests as he flips the six-sided cube. He scoots his piece two spaces down onto a yellow spot.

Kyle sticks a lip out, “But my pouty face is cute.”

“I know, it’s distracting.” Craig returns, pleased to have caused Kyle’s lips to curl into a quick smile.

He recites the history question: “What year was Charles II restored to the throne after the English Civil War; known as the Restoration.”

Craig knows this answer, and he is pretty sure Kyle _knows_ he knows the answer, but he choses to sabotage himself instead. “1760.”

Kyle is unconvinced. “Really?”

“What? That’s my guess.”

The redhead shakes his head. “Well, since you’re being a dick, I’m not giving you a point for that, so you might as well just admit you know that’s wrong. I know we went over this when I helped you study your Brit Lit course.”

Craig chuckles. “Whatever, I saw a flicker in your eye when I answered the last question right. I’m just trying to avoid a battered face.”

“I told it was an accident!” Kyle exclaims, takes a breath. He turns his head to the side, addressing his partner. “Fine—what if I gave you _incentive_ to actually put in effort?”

“Are you propositioning me, Red?”

“Yes. Strip Trivial Pursuit,” Kyle smirks before tipping his wine glass and draining the rest.

Craig refuses to deny for a second that he loves the idea. “So, for each question we get right, a piece of clothing comes off?”

“Exactly,” Kyle nods, biting a lip. “what do you say?”

“I say you should take your shirt off, then.” Craig assures.

Kyle shakes his head. “Nope, that one doesn’t count.”

“Fuck you, it doesn’t count.”

“It doesn’t because we hadn’t started the strip portion yet! And I made you food and sucked your dick this morning, so you owe me _two_ anyway.”

“Oh, I owe you for doing nice things for me? When I do equally if not more nice things for you?”

Kyle glowers. “Do you want to have this conversation, or do you want to play the game? At least with the game, you have a chance of winning.”

Craig concedes to the point and takes his own stack of question cards in his hands. Kyle goes for the green, or science and nature. From a single glance at the question, he is positive he will be removing a piece of clothing. He curses himself for not wearing any socks. “How many heart chambers do amphibians have?”

“Three!” Kyle spouts happily, slipping the green piece into his orange circle.

Craig eyes the piece. “Seems a little cocky that you had that piece ready to go.”

“Don’t distract from that fact that an article of your clothing needs to come off now, Tucker,” the redhead retorts, folding his arms over his chest, wearing rather pleased expression. Craig is happy to extinguish the look when he pulls of his comfortable black Puma sweatshirt to reveal a white undershirt. Kyle ignores his smug expression and moves his game piece forward. “Whatever, you still look hot.”

Craig sends him a wink and sinks the remainder of his own drink before reading Kyle a question from the arts and literature category. He is only mildly concerned that he will lose his shirt or pants, though Kyle is beyond proficient in all subjects—one of the many things he adores about the man.

After three correct answers in a row, Craig is in his underwear. Irritation is evident on his features, and Kyle absolutely revels in it. His deep eyes dance along his exposed torso before flicking down to examine the answer card. “Thinking of not flubbing on purpose now?”

Craig smiles widely, sardonically. “We’ll see if you even get another turn, Broflovski.”

Red eyebrows arched, Kyle recites a question that belongs to the science category. Craig answers correctly in seconds. Craig is instantly turned on when his plain, Champion pullover comes off and much more of his creamy skin is displayed. Even if Kyle does lose, he was overall incredibly correct and clever in his hypothesis that adding the element of seeing him unclothed would motivate him.

It took one turn for Kyle to be left in grey briefs. Craig needs only a geography question to secure his victory and have Kyle completely naked in their kitchen. He wonders if the interaction had already made him hard as well—and the thought alone made him even _harder_.

Craig glares daggers at the knit beanie atop Kyle’s head. “I can’t believe you’d rather take your pants and shirt off than your stupid fucking hat.”

Kyle laughs sarcastically, “Because I know what you really want. And so help me god, I will hide my untamed jew-fro so long as it makes you suffer.”

Craig scrunches his nose. “You’re truly evil.”

“Pink,” Kyle demands with a devilish grin.

Craig’s expression mirrors his partner’s when he skims the question; he’s absolutely positive he will get to keep his underwear on. “In the 2008 film for the final performance of the original Broadway production of the sensational musical _Rent, Rent: Filmed Live on Broadway,_ the actress that plays Mimi Marquez—”

“Renée Elise Goldsberry,” Kyle interrupts and adds his fourth piece nonchalantly.

Craig lets his jaw fall, “What the fuck?”

“She’s in _Hamilton_ ,”

Suddenly it is clear, and Craig has flashbacks to Kyle’s incessant viewing of the popular musical. “Fuck, dude, do I really have to take off my boxers right now?”

Kyle bites down on a lip while he contemplates for a moment, then concludes, “I’ll let you keep them on since I didn’t let you put in a piece for that first question.”

“Thank you,” Craig grumbles before reading off another question for Kyle—in which he cannot think of an answer for.

Craig finds himself stumped by the geography questions being fielded. The situation would be much more frustrating if Kyle were not also missing questions, as he continuously tried for history, his weakest subject (which just meant he is _advanced_ in the field as opposed to his usual _genius_ ).

“Oh—shit, no, you’re getting a different one,” Kyle shakes his head and sets the card down before him, rummaging through the others.

Craig points at the card and protests, “Oh, no, Red, you better read what’s on that fucking card!”

“But you’ll _win_!”

Craig shakes his head, “You’re a fucking asshole, Kyle, read me the damn question.”

Kyle releases an exaggerated moan, scooping up the card dramatically and relaying the question: “What is the capitol of Peru?”

Craig’s hazels widen. He draws a complete and utter blank. His partner picks up on this when he does not fire off the question immediately. “Are you fucking kidding me?! Half of your family is from Peru and you don’t know what the fucking capitol is?!”

“Shut up, I know it, I just can’t remember—”

“Your mother has taught you nothing!”

Craig slaps his hands to his face, “How the fuck is that my fault?”

Amusement returns to Kyle’s tone, and Craig can picture immaculately the deranged look of pleasure written across his hyper-competitive partner’s adorable face. Suddenly a few stunted wires connect him his mind, and he shoots his head up, “Lima!”

“No!” Kyle calls out, slamming the card onto the table and granting Craig his well-rehearsed death glare. “Fuck you for messing with me like that!”

Craig barks a laugh and jumps up, performing a brief, goofy victory dance to further rile up his angry partner. Kyle immediately resolves to rage-cleaning the space, lifting both of their dinner plates from the table and beginning to stomp off into the kitchen. He is cut off by Craig, who steps in front of him and lays his hands on his pale biceps. “You’re not going anywhere. Beanie off.”

Kyle stomps his foot childishly, causing a _ding_ from the forks lying onto of their dinner plates. “Please let me keep it on, my hair looks horrendous.”

“Rules are rules, baby. And you’re the one who coined them,” Craig broke the news to him, taking the plates from Kyle’s grasp and placing them on the island beside them. “But I’ll do the honors.”

Despite the countless times Craig has yanked, pulled, or otherwise removed Kyle’s endless assortment of hats from his head, the revelation of his soft, spirals never fails to fill his stomach with butterflies. He cannot help but smile at the site of Kyle’s unkempt auburn curls free from the gel and paste that he usually styles it into tame waves with. Craig lifts a hand to drag his fingers through the impossibly soft locks, smiling widely as his eyes also scan Kyle’s slightly less grumpy face. “You’re so fucking perfect.”

“And you’re smarter than you look.” Kyle retorts.

Craig lifts an eyebrow, “Is that a compliment for my intelligence or an insult for my looks?”

“Both,” Kyle rolls his eyes but contradicts the feign for annoyance when a wide smile breaks across his face. “You may have won, but I definitely proved you wrong.”

“About what?” Craig inquires, becoming even more aroused as Kyle winds his long arms around his hips and drags him close. His fingers remain tangled in Kyle’s hair as their bare stomachs and chests become acquainted.

There is a twinkle of lust in Kyle’s dreamy eyes, now half-hooded as he rubs Craig’s back softly. “This is definitely a fun two-person game.”

Before he can reciprocate the quip, Kyle’s warm, wine-flavored lips are on his. One of Craig’s hands drops to the nape of his neck as he shuts his eyes and melts into the warm, intense kiss, parting his lips against Kyle’s warm mouth. The feelings of passion and need increase exponentially when Kyle leans up to deepen the kiss, pressing their chests completely flush together.

With a dizzy hum, Craig withdraws just enough to get the last word in, “Your plan was to get me naked all along, wasn’t it?”

“Just shut up already.” Kyle commands, shifting to throw his arms around Craig’s shoulder and bring him back in for a deep, sensual kiss.

Craig remains positive that this was Kyle’s plan all along and does not fail to tease him for it incessantly.


End file.
